


Saint Bernard (Wait For It)

by GalekhXigisi



Series: The Fairchildren [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, The Turning (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Bruises, Canon Compliant, Cigarettes, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drug Use, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Established Relationship, Except this is ACTUALLY haunted, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, I cannot WAIT to explain this stuff, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, My Canon, Post-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, The Fairchildren, The Unholy Holy Trinity/Trio, Underage Smoking, it's just smoking that GREEN guys, takes SOOO many chapters tho UGH, they HYPE tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: It started out with Bill's innocent idea to trash an "abandoned mansion." Who could have known that not only was it very much NOT abandoned, but also very much populated with a weird-ass family?Eddie couldn't have known, but he sure as Hell knows now, which, for him, is pretty fucked.But Eddie can make it. He likes it, really.Previously titled Eddie Kaspbrak is an idiot and here's whyAlso previously titled Wait For It (I'm indecisive on the title, okay)
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Dustin Henderson/Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Mike Hanlon/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Series: The Fairchildren [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621375
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41





	1. Eddie makes a big mistake that leads to other mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> It's my fic, *I* decide the everything!

Eddie Kaspbrak is not a smart kid. 

Well, that’s a lie. Eddie’s pretty smart, sure. He really _ is _ smart. School-wise, Eddie gets on the A/B honor roll consecutively, which isn’t  _ that _ hard, seriously, but when it comes to controlling his fucking mouth, he’s a  _ fucking idiot.  _

It didn’t take a lot to say the word _ no. _ It two one syllable, two letters, just two little letters that were right beside each other in the alphabet, but Eddie had seen four boys on horses with a little girl on a pony trailing behind them and his mind had faltered. It was Eddie’s own fault that he was here in the first place. He was there to scope out the grounds to the creepy-ass mansion down the fucking street that  _ always _ seemed to be abandoned. He’d never seen a car go in or out, never seen anyone on the property or really even  _ near _ it. The entire town of Derry had heard rumors it was haunted, spread them like a wildfire, never once letting the supposedly “abandoned mansion” have its rest. 

Despite the constant plans to vandalize it, no one ever _touched_ it. Eddie had seen people run from it. He’d watched grown men piss themselves because _something fucking touched me, dude, dude, back off, something_ ** _fucking touched me._** He’s lived near the home his entire life, yet, not _once,_ had he ever heard someone _actually_ vandalize it. He’s heard noises from it, sure, the sounds of a child laughing and happy screaming that kept him up at night, wondering who in the fuck played in the dark, especially in a town with so many issues and a supposed curse on it. He’s heard horses and seen trails over the beaten paths, but not _once_ had he ever seen _anyone._

Well, that is, he’d never seen anyone  _ until now. _

The suggestion to go there had been innocent enough for a rebelling teenage boy. Bill had only been joking when he had told Eddie  _ why don’t you break into that creepy mansion? Get Beverly to go with you, maybe? _ Sure, there had been a lot of stuttering and it had been there with the intention to piss off his mother, but that was so far from the  _ point. _ It was just a joking suggestion brought up at lunch. It was a fucking  _ joke. _ Everyone hated the mansion, didn’t dare go near it, but Eddie was  _ fucking stupid. _ Besides, he had heard the rumors that Beverly had been there before, had been  _ inside the gates. _ She refused to talk about it, declining it with a soft smile, which had only spurred on the boy’s curiosity. 

There he walked, trailing behind the five people and their horses, bag on his back. The tallest of the five, in a red sweater, had simply asked if he wanted to come in since he was so curious, and Eddie had felt his heart thumping in his throat, something full of terror and excitement. Against his better judgment, he had said  _ yes. _ He hadn’t even  _ planned on it! _ He wanted to say  _ no! _

The four boys seem to be taking it in a stride, the one who had let him in leading. His horse is white, most likely a thoroughbred, if the strength it looks like it carries is anything. 

A boy in a darker, maroon sweater follows directly behind, shorter and certainly not held up as high. He’s slouching against his horse, the black-and-white thing not minding as it carries him all the same. 

The third has on a yellow shirt and shorts, far different from the older two with their black jeans and formal looks to them. The older two had messy hair, a simple hairbrush the last thing on the second boy’s mind, but the third, well,  _ not so much. _ His hair is straight, cut shorter and poofing out at the ends more like a mushroom. His horse is a softer peach color, certainly not the same purebred the first one is. 

And the final boy is the shortest of them, most likely the youngest and probably around Eddie’s own age. He’s been silent the whole time, unlike the first two, but he’s smiling. He looks more like the second, rugged and wild. He’s got on a big, thick hoodie, one that’s a soft blue and reminds Eddie of those paint samples you get at the top. He’s got on booty-shorts and lacks shoes, which would probably make Eddie laugh or fuss if the circumstances were any different. They’re not, though, so he stands quickly as he watches them. The last boy has the biggest horse, one that’s obviously built for power, feathering taking over their hooves. He’s slumping against his horse, too, but only so he can pet it, smiling softly at the beast that only leans into his touch. 

_ (if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say the black beast’s eyes flashed red, but he thinks that makes him sound insane and it was certainly nothing more than a reflection or trick of the light.) _

The girl on the pony looks content, taking up riding beside Eddie. She watches him with a keen one, a glimmer of mischief clear. It makes his nerves roll. Her long hair is held up in a braid, a couple of bows adorning it, but she still plays with it. She has on a dark dress that matches all the dark pants the older two boys wear. She has a glint to her that she seemingly shares with the second boy and the last. 

“Hi,” she says so suddenly that it almost makes Eddie flinch. “I’m Flora.” 

“I’m Eddie,” he tells, since he’s polite. 

“Hi, Eddie.” She smiles at him. “Do you know my brother?” She doesn’t really give him much of a pause to shake his head. “Yeah, you wouldn’t, we never leave here.” 

“Never?” 

“Haven’t been out since I was a kid,” she says, nonchalant. “My parents died in a car wreck the last time we tried to leave, haven’t tried since.” She says it like it’s nothing, though the last boy visibly tenses. She leans in to whisper at Eddie, “It almost killed Chee-”

_ “Flora,” _ the first boy snaps. 

She jerks her attention towards him, innocently asking,  _ “What?” _

He gives her a pointed look that makes the girl let out a long groan that seems like a cross between that and a sigh. “You never let me have fun, MIles!” 

“You can have fun when your fun involves  _ your _ secrets, not Richie’s,” the second boy tells, letting out a laugh. He has a thick Russian accent that hinders his words, Eddie wonders if he’s ever left the property. He gives a soft look at the youngest, who had visibly tensed. Eddie hadn’t even  _ noticed. _ However, the second boy slows down, his horse moving to stand beside the last boy. The third doesn’t falter. 

“That’s Boris,” Flora tells with a smile. She looks at the first boy. “That’s Miles,” the boy in yellow, “Mike,” and finally the last, “And Richie. Boris and Richie are called identical twins.” 

Eddie hums, softly commenting, “That’s cool.” 

“Yeah! Mike’s older than them, Miles is the oldest. I’m the baby!” 

He smiles and lets out a quiet laugh. “I suppose you are.” 

“We’re here,” Miles suddenly announces, presenting the giant house. Eddie’s glad because it feels like they’ve been walking how an hour. Realistically, it couldn’t have been more than twenty. He felt like he’d walked at least a mile. Considering that he couldn’t see the gate, he doubts that’s too far off. 

_ “Woah,” _ Eddie huffs in an amazed breathe. 


	2. Eddie Kaspbrak wonders, but in SILENCE

Eddie sits down on the sofa. Really, sitting down comes with a lot more grace to it than Eddie even thought he had to him. He’s far from graceful, any single one of his few friends able to testify to that fact. He’s never been that graceful, which he can now say in confidence upon comparison towards these  _ children. _ They’re graceful, probably the damn equivalent of black cats, there in all their glory. If it were at all sunny (which it never seemed to be over the mansion), he’s sure he’d find them inside, sitting at the doorways, laying on the floor in the sunshine. Even Flora, with her spritely attitude, albeit far more of her looking like a darker-hued cat than an actual black cat like her brothers. The four looked like quadruplets, unlike Flora, who looked like Mike more than anyone and seemed happier than the rest. 

Eddie focuses on the back door, looking out of it with a careful expression. Boris stood out there, Richie still on his horse. Boris had promised to take the horses back to the stables which, apparently, implied that Richie would be going with him, too. Richie holds to Mike and Flora’s horses, their bits in his hands as he walks with them, taking the lead without remorse. Boris doesn’t seem to have any sort of issue with this, following behind with his two horses. He seems to calm down the snappy horse that Miles had been riding, his own calm one walking beside him without the need to be lead by his bit. It’s odd, Eddie’s certain, because he’s heard that horses won’t walk beside each other outside of herds and followed behind when lead. He doesn’t make a comment, though, watching the two through the back door before they quickly disappear behind a large thicket. It looks like a maze if Eddie’s being honest with both himself and the others. It’s daunting in its own right. 

Flora runs in front of Eddie, which makes the boy glance at her. By the time he looks back at the two and their horses to see if they’re still there, there’s practically no trace of either of them.  _ Practically _ is the wrong word, actually, Eddie thinks, because there isn’t a  _ single fucking one. _ There’s no prints in the mudded grass, no hint at disturbing the rain-frosted grass, no mud trailing along the coble path, just a sudden disappearance of the boys. It’s almost as if they were ghosts. 

“Flora,” Miles says, which successfully gets Eddie’s attention. Miles stands beside the doorway into the room, they one they’d come into. Mike moves past him without a comment. “Why don’t you go and see if you can find Kate? See if she wants to play a game?”

The girl seems to brighten at that. “She said I should make some more friends, didn’t she? I can show her Eddie!” 

She takes to running down the halls, leaving Eddie confused. The way she had addressed him had been like if he were a toy, one for her own leisurely play, which didn’t exactly sound all that right on Eddie, but he tastefully ignores it as he gives the other two a glance over. 

He doesn’t get to ask who Kate was before Mike was addressing, “Kate is our tutor.” He seems to hesitate before rephrasing, “Well, my and Flora’s tutor.” He glances at his brother, smirking as his tone turns teasing, “And Miles’, too.” He doesn’t justify Miles’ grumble or rolled eyes with any sort of response, not even a snap back of any sort like Eddie thought he would. Instead, he continues on, “She’s a live-in private tutor, to be more accurate.” 

Eddie slowly raises a brow. He’s a little worried to pry, but the creepy family only seemed to be keeping so many secrets. “What about Richie and Boris?” 

Mike hums, taking a seat diagonal from him, one of the many armchairs that seemed to litter the home. He peers at the back door through dark eyelashes, a wistful look on his face as he addresses, “They’re back from their international studies. They’ve been traveling for a while and were ready to come back home, I suppose.” 

The almost questioningly sad tone doesn’t sit all that right with Eddie, either, but he shakes it off to ask, “What about you two and Flora?” It takes him a second to realize that  _ no, of course Flora didn’t do any of that, she said she hasn’t left the property at all. _ “I mean, you two, never mind,  _ sorry. _ Did you two do any international studies?” 

“I did,” Miles pipes up with a smile, finally making his way into the room. “I only did a year of it, but it wasn’t my thing, not really. It was Richie and Boris’ thing.” He gives a soft shrug at that. He’s nonchalant and calm. Eddie thinks his expression almost looks regretful at that statement, eyes flashing to his brother for a moment before returning to Eddie. Once they do, the look is gone. “I prefer to stay at home.” His eyes have a dark glint to them, something almost  _ angry _ burning in them, lurking and  _ raging. _ Eddie wonders what in the fuck  _ that _ is about. He doesn’t ask. 

There continues the sounds of stomping around the halls before they falter at an elderly woman’s voice calling in a fuss. Eddie can’t really make out the words, but he hears Flora calling back to them.  _ “Sorry, Miss Grose! I’m trying to find Kate so I can show her my new friend!” _

The voice calls back, one finally distinctive and  _ there, “It better not be another dead animal that you’re going to show her. You’re going to drive her into madness!” _

_ “No, no, it’s a real, alive boy, this time!” _

“Miss Grose is our nanny,” Mike tactfully interrupts before Eddie can start thinking out what Flora means. He’s silently thankful for it. “She’s practically our grandma, at this point.” 

Eddie raises a brow. He didn’t know his grandparents, really, just Ben’s grandmothers, the kind, sweet little lesbians that they were. He had no experience with grandparents outside of that and whatever was in the media nowadays. “What’d you mean?” 

“Well, she practically raised our parents. She’s been around since she was, what?” He turns towards Miles, who snorts and gives a shrug, not sure of her age. “I think she was fifteen or sixteen. It was back before all that legal shit was going on where kids couldn’t actually work and you have to be twenty-five to do live-in shit or whatever.” He wags a hand at the other. “And she’s maybe in her eighties now?” He smirks before continuing, “The point is, she’s pretty fucking old now.” 

“Practically fossil,” comes a voice practically right in Eddie’s ear, which makes him yelp and jump away. The boy currently beside him snorts out a laugh, Boris suddenly fucking  _ there. _ The boy sports a nonchalant smile, all lopsided and full of teeth as he looks at the other, purely amused by his own action. 

He takes a drag of a thick joint that Eddie hadn’t even noticed until the second it pressed to his lips, the tip lighting up orange and leaving ashes in its wake. He fills his lungs and breathes in, holding it while he passes it to Richie. Richie smiles softly, taking a slow drag, one that’s impressive and puts Boris’ lighthearted drag to shame, if Eddie’s being honest. The smallest of the brothers leans against the back of the couch, now face to face with Eddie, whose cheeks tint red as watching Richie suck on the joint, cheeks hallowed and slowly filling before he flicks his eyes over Eddie, scanning him up and down with a curious expression. 

Somewhere, in the back of Eddie’s mind, he’s  _ certain _ that he knows that expression, has seen it a million times before, but he has no idea when or where. It looks so fucking  _ familiar _ and he’s sure if he digs deep enough, he’ll find it, but he doesn’t get the chance to ponder it. He’s not sure how long the two stare at each other before Richie is blowing smoke into his face with a little smirk to him, glasses on the tip of his nose as he bats his eyelashes with feigned innocence. 

Surprisingly, the smoke doesn’t smell like that skunk-like smell he’s come to expect from weed. It’s almost  _ sweet, _ sitting somewhere in his mind as something  _ good. _ He doesn’t know  _ what _ the fucking smell is, but it unwillingly makes him fucking  _ relax. _ He wants to melt into the smell and let it coax around him like a thick blanket, but that’s not something Eddie would  _ ever _ fucking voice, especially not when he knows it’s fucking smoke from fucking  _ weed. _ These two boys are high than fucking kites! Richie’s half-lidded bedroom eyes stare Eddie down with a soft, expectant little look like the boy was about seconds away from kissing him, but he doesn’t, just watching intently as Eddie sputters. 

_ “Que carjo?” _ Eddie yelps at the boy, pushing his face away. The boy willingly moves back, but settles only a foot away, arm slung over the sofa’s back and joint getting pressed back to his lips as he flashes a fond expression towards the now-fussing Kaspbrak boy. “That’s  _ gross!” _ It’s  _ not, _ Eddie thinks, but he’s not going to let this stoner have the satisfaction of that. “How do I know you’re not sick?  _ Are _ you sick?” His voice becomes higher as he fusses at the boy, who is relatively undeterred by this. 

_ “Chee,” _ Boris scolds with a teasing smirk playing at his lips, “Stop flirting with the guest! Is new! No fun!” He playfully hits at his brother’s shoulder. 

Richie finally pulls away from the sofa, pulling back to run his eyes up and down his brother. Boris is, notably, only a few inches taller than Richie, which makes him an inch taller than Mike. Their height difference isn’t all that significant, but it still makes a difference in the two as Richie gently presses his hand into Boris’, a gesture Eddie can’t say he’s all that familiar with in the least. It’s some sort of intimacy that Eddie feels intrusive for even seeing. It’s a bond that the two seem rather in tune with, Boris running a hand over the other’s wrist, smile faltering into something serious before pulling back up in a mask. It doesn’t meet his eyes. Eddie just barely catches the hints of bruises around Richie’s wrist, his sleeve having ridden up just the tiniest bit before Boris silently pulled it back down without a word, hand falling away. 

Eddie wonders if Richie is one of those kids that needs physical contact. Eddie didn’t really know anyone who did, but he’s seen some on television, those kids that his mother called  _ clingy _ and  _ excessive, _ as if she herself weren’t clingy and excessive with everything she did. Eddie didn’t mind those kinds of kids and Beverly  _ kind of _ reminded him of them. She was pretty big on physical contact in an affectionate way, but not the same way he’d seen these other children be, just in a way that Ben was affectionate, too. Those were the kids in shows who bottled until they burst, he thinks, and he wonders if Richie’s like that. 

Richie pulls away entirely, all warmth gone from the sofa and Boris so suddenly that it’s like the room had dropped twenty degrees. Eddie almost shivers at watching Richie turn from them and walk out of the room, a somber look to him but soft glint to his eyes that looked fond. Eddie doesn’t miss the bruises that litter his body, looking like handprints,  _ especially _ the ones on his thighs.  _ That _ makes Eddie shudder and his stomach drop. He vaguely wonders where he got them from and pretends his own chest doesn’t burn with worry and something that  _ totally _ isn’t suspected jealousy.

“Don’t mind him,” he hears from his left, having not realized he’d been trailing Richie like his brothers had until that very second. Another yelp leaves him, which makes Boris laugh.  _ (Eddie only then realizes Richie took the joint with him down the hall.)  _

_ “Fucking Christ,” _ he says, wondering how in the  _ fuck _ these fucking  _ kids _ seem to get around so silently. Richie and Boris didn’t make any noise when they walked and, as far as he knew, Mike and Miles probably didn’t, either, but Flora seemed to like stomping and being loud most of the time. How in the actual  _ fuck, _ he vaguely ponders, did they manage that? Were they fucking  _ ghosts? _ That would explain why they were silent, but not why he could touch Richie, who was so warm, so easily earlier, nor how he and Boris could even  _ get fucking high. _

Flora climbs onto the sofa, plopping down. The cushion dips beneath her weight and Eddie doubts she’s a ghost. Maybe she and Richie are the only ones alive? He doesn’t get to wonder all that much as Flora distracts, “He doesn’t talk to new people all that much. Makes him feel bad. I don’t even think he talks to Kate.” 

Eddie wonders why it would make Richie feel bad, but he’s been doing a  _ whole lot _ of wondering today. He thinks he’ll continue on, wondering in silence. He clears his throat and instead decides to ask, “Did you find her?” He falters for a moment before clarifying, “Kate, I mean.” 

She smiles and nods. “I did! She was in her room, got really tired after today’s lesson!” That seems to ease some of the tension that Eddie hadn’t even noticed built up until then, his shoulders slowly falling and muscles unclenching. 

“Should one of us check on her,” Mike asks with a cautiously raised brow. He’s wary about it. Eddie wants to fucking know  _ why. _

Flora doesn’t seem to mind, shaking her head quickly. Child-like wonder still lights up her eyes. “No, she said she wanted to be alone!” The dark brunette turns her attention towards Boris, dark eyes widening, suddenly full of interest and expectancy. She asks, “Is Richie going to go see her?” 

Boris shakes his head, slow and knowing. Eddie wishes he knew how far their bond went for him to be able to tell what Richie was going to do with one simple touch and a few looks. Maybe they spoke of it outside? “He’s going up to his room.” 

With that, Flora’s attention turns towards Eddie, asking him, “Do you want to see my paintings?” Eddie doesn’t even get to finish nodding before she’s wrapping a thin hand around his wrist, pulling him behind her to a rather spacious room full of canvases and paint. Her three brothers loyally follow behind them, almost as if they were lost puppies. They merely relocate, finding their spots as Flora makes Eddie sit on the floor and view her paintings with a happy look written over her. Eddie wasn’t going to be the one to disturb that, smiling and nodding along as he follows her words to his best abilities. He asks questions and makes sure to let her know he’s paying attention and in tune with her words. Her brothers do the exact same, excitement of their own showing in their words. It makes Eddie’s smile widen, not that he’d ever confess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be blunt, this story is going to have non-con elements to it. In case you haven't seen The Turning yet, there are a lot of non-con elements to that, too. And for both my story and the canon movie, they are both implied and (will be) referenced. 
> 
> Please be careful. This will be discussed as I get more into the story and will most likely become a heavy theme in it, both with recovery and all that comes with it. It will be discussed, too. I don't think I'll actually write it /happening/, but all of this will be there. This story is going to be similar to Aftermore (another one of my fics) storywise, albeit not so heavy here, I don't think, but I have yet to decide and set anything in stone. 
> 
> Also, I will be adding relationships to it, both canon and not. I'm going to attempt a slowburn story with hurt/comfort (and heavy angst), but that is going to mean a lot of waiting and patience on both your ends as the readers and my own as the writer. 
> 
> I believe that there will be murder-like elements and suicidal actions/intentions, though whether there will be actual murder happening In The Fic is undecided as of yet. There will be the elements of what happened in canon to The Turning (and obviously spoilers). 
> 
> There will be recovery and there will be fluff. I highly doubt that I'll write any smut for this, given that everyone outside of Kate and Miss Grose (as for appearing in the fic-wise as of current) is underage and cannot consent. 
> 
> Tags will be changed and warnings. There are also other tags that I'm excited to get to. A few of the people on my discord server know what's going to happen for some of the tags and relationships, so I hope that y'all from the server are content with this so far.


	3. We finally see some CONTENT

Eddie supposes he really shouldn’t be all  _ that _ surprised by the turn of events that overtook the day.  _ He _ had been the one to explore a supposedly abandoned home, made sense that the family inside was weird as all Hell. With that being said, he shouldn’t have been surprised when the weird-ass that was Boris said that  _ he _ would lead Eddie out of the home. Or, at least, to the gate. 

He hadn’t talked all that much with Boris, far more focused on Flora, who had lead him around the entire house, showing him everything she possibly could within the span of a few hours. They had gotten to see the library, which had a boy named Theo as its keeper. Theo seemed to be close to Boris, the two practically violent with their odd relationship, but it was relaxing in a way Eddie couldn’t explain. It felt nice to watch their banter, which eventually leads to the group moving outside so the two could share a joint. The blonde addition was kind to Eddie and told him to ignore Boris when the raven-haired boy kept calling Theo  _ Potter. _ Eddie knows that he’s referencing Harry Potter, it didn’t take a genius to know that. 

They soon ran into the gardener, a blonde boy with curly hair that honestly made Eddie’s heart leap into his throat and a blush form on his cheeks. The gardener’s name was Stanley, but his introduction was followed by, _ but you can just call me Stan, all my friends do. _ The golden eyes the boy possessed were soft and kind and it made Eddie want to fucking  _ melt, _ if he’s being honest. 

After that, Flora had led them to the stables, teasing Stan the entire time.  _ We’re going to see one of your favorite boys, _ she had said, practically chanting it as she ignored the boy’s blush. The newest addition, Eddie found, was another boy named Mike, this one toned and a little shorter than Stan. He had a  _ lot _ of muscle to him, easily able to pick up Stan and put Flora on his shoulders, giving her a ride around the stables with a smile. Theo had said Mike also helped him around the library, too, taking an interest to the books to the point that Theo wasn’t really needed all that much. Only they, Kate, Richie, and Miss Grose read from it, so there wasn’t really much to do, anyway. Mike was able to keep Samson, the horse Miles rode and Flora said was always angry, calm enough that Eddie could feed him an apple without losing a thumb. Flora had said that the teacher before Kate,  _ Jessel, _ had to get her thumb sewn back on because of all of Samson. Yeah, Eddie didn’t think he wanted to fuck with that horse all that much, really.

Miss Grose had called dinner soon after, which resulted in the little group making their way towards the home. Richie sad at the table with a blonde, Flora cluing him in on  _ that _ being Kate. Kate was talking avidly to Richie, who was following along with nods and smiles, keeping the woman entertained. Stan and Mike  _ (the stable boy) _ sat beside him, the two finding themselves in on the conversation and occasionally piecing in their own bits of information. Despite how avid the woman was with her storytelling, Eddie could tell that she wasn’t completely  _ there, _ not too focused on the boys, much less the story she was actually supplying them. 

_ (Flora has asked if another two were going to be there for dinner, two named Eleven and Hopper, but Miles had said they were in town since Hopper had something to do at his other job. Eddie didn’t ask any questions and moved to talk to Mike and Boris, instead.  _

_ He also ignored that the soup Miss Grose served reminded him of the soup his mother made. It made him a little ill and he had to force down the last few spoonfuls.) _

Richie had cleaned the table, outright refusing when Eddie, Kate, and Miss Grose attempted to help, gently slapping Kate’s hand away, shaking his head at Eddie rather violently, and giving his nanny a gentle shove that didn’t mean anything more than  _ no, thanks. _ It was clear he was looking for something to do as he rearranged things in the kitchen, making some racket. No one said anything, but Eddie silently thought it was so he didn’t feel so alone in there. He hadn’t told anyone that, though, not even  _ considering _ voicing it. Eventually, the gardener and stable boy went into the kitchen and didn’t come out, talking to Richie. The boy doesn’t voice anything back, but Eddie could hear the clatter he made. 

Eventually, though, it started to get dark and Eddie knew he had a curfew to meet. If he was even a minute later, his mother would send out a search party to find him, one that she wouldn’t let rest until her  _ little baby boy _ was found. And, quite frankly, Eddie was tired of all that search party bullshit. Surprisingly,  _ Richie _ was the one to notice Eddie getting antsy, having only come into the room for a minute to get one of the cups he had forgotten. He gave his twin a little tap on the shoulder, given him a look that they held for a moment, and then walked out of the room, his eyes flashing from Eddie to the cup in his hand. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy looked like a kicked puppy when he left the room. 

As they walked down the path, the night was beginning to fall, days getting shorter as Fall slowly started to make its yearly appearance. Eddie didn’t mind all that much, but it was a tiny bit daunting, the path only illuminated by the sunset’s dreary colors and them fading fast. He worries Boris would walk home alone in the pitch black, but it’s clear Boris didn’t seem to mind in the least. 

He waited until they were out of range of the house to finally talk to Eddie, which was pretty far, all things considered. It was deathly quiet outside of the groan of the woods  _ (which Eddie thought sounded like a growl), _ not even wind ruffling the leaves. It was just the boys and their feet scattering and crunching rocks on the path. But Boris interrupts that to softly say, “Richie likes you.” 

Eddie almost wants to  _ scoff _ at that. Outside of the teasing that happened in the beginning, their only interactions had consisted of looks across the room and existing around each other. That wasn’t much to go off of. He expected Boris to say that  _ literally anyone else _ liked him, but certainly not  _ Richie. _ He doesn’t have the filter not to pry, “How do you even know that? How does  _ he _ even know that? We didn’t even do anything outside of exist near each other and fight.” 

Boris laughs at that. It’s natural and melodic in a soothing way, not those high pitched scoffs he constantly did around Theo, those little  _ in love _ noises that Eddie remembers Ben used to do around Bill and Beverly until Eddie had shoved them into a closet and told them enough was enough. The noise Boris makes, though, is light-hearted and relaxing. “Chee is not bad guy, meant no harm when he left earlier today.” 

The shorter boy knows he’s addressing when Richie had left after they had only first been introduced. Eddie had been  _ worried _ about him far more than anything else. The bruises on his legs, the ones on his wrists, they were all dark and prominent. It didn’t take a genius to know what they were from, which had spurred on even  _ more _ worry. Boris had looked so  _ guilty _ when he pulled down Richie’s sleeve, almost as if he blamed himself for what sat there on his wrists. Eddie didn’t know how he’d gotten them and it had taken him a while to realize that the sad little look on Boris’ face was even guilt, to begin with. 

It frustrates Eddie, really. He’s never been someone to worry about people he’s just met, never been one to pry into their lives, but the second he saw the kicked puppy look that Richie sported,  _ well, _ he wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and hold him tight, comforting him and whispering soft reassurances. It pisses him off.  _ Why _ was this weird as fuck family igniting feelings that he never even had beforehand? Why were these boys making him want to do some things that his mother would  _ almost certainly _ send him to a mental asylum for even  _ considering? _ It only frustrates him more because he  _ still _ wants to tell Richie that things were getting  _ better _ and he’d do what he could to help. 

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says to the older twin, “I didn’t think he did.” 

Boris is still smiling as he hears that, not minding the momentary pause Eddie needed to come up with an answer and interpret his words. He gives a little shrug and peers forward, his expression falling into something distant, not necessarily focused on Eddie anymore. He doesn’t mind it all that much, really, if he’s being honest. It’s not the worst expression he could get, so, it’ll do. 

“Chee doesn’t make friends unless he knows they’ll stick.” The sadness that tinges his words almost makes Eddie flinch. His own expression falls into a worried frown. “But he likes you, likes you  _ lots.” _

Eddie  _ really _ wishes he had the filter not to say, “How do you even know that? He didn’t even talk to me.” 

The look Eddie receives makes him nauseated, if he’s being honest. It’s sad, hidden beneath a little smile that’s broken and feels forced, if Eddie’s being frank. He feels fucking  _ guilty. _ As he’s finding, with the Fairchild family, guilt is not a new feeling on any of them, nor will it continue to be on Eddie. The taller boy pauses, stopping his walking, that sad little smile still painfully apparent as Eddie follows suit. 

“Chee used to always talk when we were young,” he says, “kind of faltered when our parents died, but Flora talked enough for the two of them.” Eddie wonders how his parents died, but Boris continues to say, “Stopped couple of years ago, all sudden an’shit, got real worried for a while.” 

“Did you find out why?”

Eddie regrets not having a filter. He  _ really _ fucking regrets it. Why couldn’t his  _ dumbass _ learn to  _ shut the fuck up? _

Boris’ expression is downright  _ murderous _ as he takes a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket, offering a cigarette to Eddie, who turns it down with a wave of his hand and shake of his head. Boris doesn’t force it on him, pressing the stick to his mouth and lighting it. He inhales it, taking it in and Eddie watches the tip glow orange. Within the time it takes to light the cigarette, Boris had schooled his expression and forced out the smoke in a relieving little breath. He takes another drag and holds it in, eyeing the gate. It’s still a rather long walk away. He nods at Eddie and lets a few puffs of smoke leave his lips, all of them in the shapes of the letter  _ O. _

“Yeah,” he says softly, “found out why.” 

Boris runs his eyes up and down Eddie, almost as if he’s sizing him up, but Boris had already done that when they’d first invited him through the gate. Beneath thick, black eyelashes, Eddie can see his eyes rake over him, dark and full of some emotion the only child can’t fucking  _ pin. _ He wasn’t sizing Eddie up. He wasn’t going to fucking  _ fight him. _ Eddie wasn’t going to win, that wasn’t hard to tell, but that meant Boris was looking for  _ something. _ Eddie steels himself, holds steady with himself. 

“Chee likes you,” Boris repeats, and Eddie wonders if it’s aimed at him or for Boris himself. It’s nothing more than a whisper, so it’s probably not for him. The taller boy lets out another sigh, the last few bits of smoke leaving him and clouding the air in front of him. “You’ll stick around, won’t you?”

That question has Eddie taken aback, if he’s being honest. He hadn’t fucking expected  _ anything _ like that/ he’d expected some morbid answer, expected Boris to fess up some sort of family secret. He certainly seemed like the type to overshare without hesitation, not that Eddie was in a place to judge. He was, too, no longer having a lot of lines that others would consider crossed if he’d told them certain things. But that was from years of his mother’s isolation and lack of privacy. He wonders if Boris has some sort of similar complex. 

Eddie has to pause and take in those words. Within the span of eight hours with a short, sarcastic suggestion from his best friend, he had ended up in the middle of a supposedly haunted and abandoned house that seemed to be neither. Eddie wasn’t so sure about the  _ haunted _ bit, but he’s certain at least Mike and Stan are alive. He knew that much and, really, it was enough for him not to lose his shit. He had come to the gate expecting to map out a way to break in and steal some shit to flash his accomplishments just to defy his mother. At worst, he figured he’d end up getting caught by the police, to which one of Beverly’s aunts, the one that likes to dye her hair green since it clashes with her natural-born red, would end up bailing him out since she was close to the police and got it sorted out so she’d be the one getting bitch to instead of Eddie’s mom. 

And Eddie had thought it would be nothing more, and yet, here he was, standing with Boris Fairchild, who said his name was legally Boris Pavlikovsky, just like Richie’s, taken after their father’s insistence but changed a few years ago. Boris hadn’t told him why and Eddie didn’t pry. It wasn’t his place and he still knows it isn’t. The joking suggestion had led him to where he was now. He didn’t regret it. He was happy he had chosen to disobey his mother and approach the freaky mansion. 

He’s certain he’ll stick around. He’s sure Boris can tell by the way the smile suddenly reaches his eyes, just a soft little glimmer of hope. He asks the duplicated boy, “Can I tell my friends about this place?”

Boris finally starts to walk again, smiling. He hesitates, clearly thinking over the words, but it ends with him humming and nodding. “Bring them, if you’d like.” The words that follow are almost like nothing more than a footnote, but Eddie still hears,  _ “Chee needs the friends.” _ It’s said so quietly. If not for the near silence, Eddie wouldn’t have thought he’d heard it. 

It makes his stomach stir at even hearing the whispered words. He wonders what in the  _ fuck _ is going on with this family. What the fuck happened to Richie? What the fuck happened to the trainer before Mike? What the fuck happened to their parents? Why the fuck were they all so fucking  _ weird? _ Why was this family so shrouded in secrets? He wants to fucking call Boris out for all of it, bitch at him for not being upfront and blunt, but he knows it’s not his fucking place. He only  _ just _ met them. It was so far from his place to pry. So, instead, he tells the other, “Yeah, I’ll stick around. I’ll probably bring my friends, and they’ll probably get the whole group to tag along.” 

Boris takes another drag. When he talks, smoke falls from his lips. “S’good,” is all he says, the  _ Chee needs that _ goes unsaid between them, but it still sits there, unspoken and silently heard. Despite his brothers not even being there, he playfully jabs, “Mike and Miles sure need the social interaction.” It’s said in such a sibling-like way that Eddie is rather certain Bill and Georgie will be doing when they’re both older and at each other’s throats more, as he’s found every sibling is like. The playful jab has the raven-haired boy smirking passively. 

Eddie snorts at that. He’s heard Beverly’s aunts talk about their siblings, heard them banter about the others. This is what it felt like, all playful and never actually meaning genuine malice to their words. He nods. “I’m sure once I get Bill to come, he’ll get his girlfriend, who’ll get their boyfriend, and then it’ll keep going until its all of us.” 

_ “Good,” _ Boris deadpans. 

He smiles down at Eddie, his expression somewhat similar to the fond one Richie had spared him earlier, but it’s so  _ different _ at the same time. He wonders if it’s just because of the family resemblance, if they just subconsciously mirrored each other after years of being so in tune with each other, or if it was just an affectionate look the two shared. He thinks it’s probably the first two options, especially as he scans over the other boy. It takes him a second to realize that the look he’s receiving is one of  _ admiration, _ which is certainly that fond, soft little look he got from Richie earlier. It hits him like a fucking  _ truck _ to see, watching as Boris turns his gaze forward, expression still kind and soft like it had been. He  _ admired Eddie, _ Eddie thinks it means, which makes his cheeks heat red. Was it because he said he’d be coming around more? Was it because he said he’d bring his friends? Was it because they unofficially declared he was going to be a constant and that his dumbass friends would, subsequently, also be constants? 

They fall into silence, something that isn’t at all tense or forced. It’s calming and relaxing, full of silent reassurances that don’t have to be said to be understood. And Eddie thinks that maybe Boris just had that way with people since it seemed to be the start of the same thing he shared with his siblings, which felt odd. Eddie just walks beside the other without a comment. 

They don’t say anything until they get to the gate, parting ways with Eddie softly voicing, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Boris.” He smiles and decides, “I’ll try to get my friends to come, too, if that’s okay?” 

“Course,” is all he says, his voice folds as the gates close, separating the two as they go different directions. 

-

The walls always whispered words, Richie knows that well enough from his spot on the roof, at the very top. There was a little opening, just a door that anyone could get to if they went through the East Wing. Richie liked to come up there. The walls didn’t talk up there, a lack of them leaving the haunting to tone itself down. He sits up there, watching as the darkness blankets the world in its soft blue. The walls may not talk up here, but the ghosts do. 

_ “They’re talking about you,” _ he hears one say, feminine and high. With the words, there’s the sensation of a hand pressing to his skin, pulling up his sleeves and touching the harmed and discolored skin there. Richie doesn’t have to look at it to know what’s there, to see the wounds and whatever else. There were bandages that Miles changed this morning before Flora got up that he doesn’t acknowledge. He never does.

He almost says  _ I know _ to the ghosts before he stops. He feels dumb for it. Even as the warmth is sapped from his body from hands that don’t belong to bodies, he knows they won’t give him a straight answer. Richie always strived for them, but they never came. 

From his spot, he can see Boris walking up the path, kicking on the gravel as he goes. He ignores the groans of the forest, no matter how animalistic they sound. The children of the household had learned to ignore it all. It wasn’t something that bothered them anymore, not after their mother had said, _ if something were going to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it. _ They grew up fine, but Flora and Mike didn’t leave the house anymore. He watches the gentle glow that accompanies the cigarette Boris always smokes get shoved against one of the many statues their father loved so. The orange dies against it. 

Fingers comb through his hair, a multitude of them that he’s stopped acknowledging at this point. He’s aware of them, all of them, as they play in his locks. It was nothing new, nor was a different voice that says, _ “They always talk about you.” _ They have an accent, one that never left, even in death.

Richie does manage to bite out a weak, _ “They don’t,” _ at that, feeling hands press on his arms. He grimaces and hisses at the pain that accompanies it. It doesn’t relent for a moment, cold taking over as the contact and pressure are both gone. The souls stuck in the home don’t always tell the truth. They’re angry and bored and stuck in that home for no reason. It’s a bitch and Richie has learned not to pay any mind to their words, not really. 

The ghosts always said they wanted to protect the children of the Fairchild bloodline, but it was a lie, Richie thinks, because they didn’t protect Richie when he was in his own home most of the time. They weren’t fun and didn’t settle nicely into his life. He didn’t like them that much and couldn’t force himself to. They took a protective edge to Flora, though, and he’s certain of that. They don’t relent with her. 

_ “Eddie hates you,” _ says a masculine voice. It’s right in his ear and makes him flinch. He waves them away, that being the final straw as he bats at them. He’s left in silence, the cold air of the night now being all that saps the warmth from the boy as he pulls his sleeves down. They usually listen when it’s just little things like now, pulling away and not prying because they know it pisses the household off. 

Richie moves from his spot, shutting the hatch behind him as he starts walking. He’s not sure where he’s going or where he’ll end up, but he doesn’t want to be here and he doesn’t want to continue on being out in the cold anymore. He doesn’t want to get sick, nor does he want to listen to those voices any longer. If he ends up in the library with Mike and Stan both on his sides, softly reading to the boy, well, that’s their business and theirs alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure of what to do from here on out but I want y'all all to know that it gets more morbid from here on out
> 
> Also, GHOSTS


	4. pondering silently but it's with Bill now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill meets the family. Also, Richie knows sign language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More implications of abuse that will continue throughout the rest of the story

Realistically, Bil didn’t think Eddie would actually go through with visiting Derry’s famously known “haunted mansion.” It had just been a fucking joke of a suggestion, nothing more than that, but Eddie had taken it to heart, apparently, which was now he was getting lead through this giant, freaky fucking mansion by three boys that look exactly like each other outside of their outfits. The one named Mike is in shorts and a button-up shirt, the one named Miles in loose pants and a sweater, and finally Boris in a solid black outfit, thick boots paired with a large coat that coaxes over his whole body. Outside of that, they’re pretty much all duplicates. Their shared little sister is far from that, all spritely and full of life, her long hair up in a ponytail that she said someone named Stanny had done. 

The house itself is a fucking  _ maze, _ full of long halls that don’t ever seem to end. The house just looks old, halls so dimly lit and lacking life as Flora pulls the group through, leading them. She comments on each of the paintings as if there weren’t at least forty on one of the giant fucking walls. The only painting that seems to be exempt from this is the one directly in the middle. There’s a family in it, two soft-faced boys standing with two girls. Both of the girls look miserable, the girl with glasses having her hair up in soft blue ribbons, a baby in her arms. The other girl looks like she’s in the same boat, albeit her hair was much shorter and features a bit sharper. There are two adults behind them, but there’s a curtain pulled over their faces, blocking it from all to see. 

Flora falters on it, moving to one of a lady with flowers over her crotch and dark hair draping over her shoulders. She’s an entire eyeful for all to see, but Flora just says, “That’s our nana. She died when I was a baby from candy.” 

“Cancer,” Miles corrects with a snort, as if the topic was amusing. And Bill silently wonders if it is. Maybe she had flubbed that a lot before? So much so that it was a joke between the siblings? 

Beverly takes asking questions about the paintings, not minding ignoring the family portrait that looked so old in the middle. Bill can’t help the wonder that fills him at seeing the thing, but he wasn’t going to get answers on it. He couldn’t help but notice the way Eddie’s eyes darted over to it, then back to Flora, as if he were doing his best to ignore it but making no headway. Bill doesn’t doubt it. Eddie was a stubborn bastard like that. It doesn’t fall from his mind as he moves forward, Flora stamping down the hallway with her hand around Beverly’s, pulling the redhead forward. 

The house itself looks so much like a bootleg house, one of those many that he only heard rumors of or saw in books, the ones full of secret entrances and a million different secrets to its hearth. There wasn’t a metal knight in the house, though, just statues of naked ladies that looked old as could be but miraculously clean as a whistle. There were a couple of gargoyles outside that had soot staining them, leaking down from the rain the night beforehand. Boris had snorted and commented, _ Made me’n’Chee laugh, _ when Ben had asked about them. 

Bill isn’t exactly sure who _Chee_ is, but he’s pretty sure it’s the youngest boy in the group, the one named Richie that Eddie had been batshit cryptic about, so much so to the point that it was honestly sort of annoying. Eddie had said he only talked to Richie for a little bit the night before or, _more accurately,_ _he_ had talked to _Richie,_ fussed at him because _Richie doesn’t talk a lot._ Eddi couldn’t give an explanation, which Bill doubts he has, anyway. 

There are enough weird paintings and statues that litter the home, all of which get the same explanation as the gargoyles outside, except sometimes it’s because Mike or Miles or Flora thought they were funny, too. Bill has no idea how any of these children make enough money to buy those shitty things, but the amount of naked people in the home is downright not that child-friendly, so he doubts he’ll be bringing Georgie over any time soon. He doesn’t think that matters all that much, though, because he doubts Georgie would get anywhere  _ near _ the property, even if Bill paid him good money for it. 

After a solid fifteen minutes of pure  _ walking _ through the home with Flora explaining things as she bounced along, they finally enter what Bill can only  _ assume _ is a living room, given the fact that it actually looks like someone  _ lives in it. _ There are about three different couches, one lacking the white pillows on it, which are set up in the middle of the room in a fort-like position, it certainly only being big enough for Flora and maybe one other, if they were lucky. There are two loveseats that lack their cushions as well, and three armchairs, one of which is occupied by three boys. 

One the far left has a tan complexion, golden hair falling into curls around his head, sort of like a little halo, in a way. He has on a button-up like Mike’s, but it’s white with blue stripes, paired with jean shorts. His golden eyes are focused on the boy to the far right, who was wiping a smudge of dirt off of the first’s cheek. It’s a small gesture, so minute and yet so intimate at the same time.  _ (Bill pretends his cheeks don’t flush at seeing it.) _

The second boy has darker skin, his hair short. He smiles widely at the blonde, a soft expression that could certainly make  _ anyone’s _ heart do flips. He’s got a whole lot of muscle to him, too, enough so that it would make it far from hard to pick anyone up with. He has on a white shirt that’s paired with overalls, both covered in their own assortment of stains but looking well kept, despite the obvious damage done to them through so long of wear and tear. They’ve even got a little yellow smiley face sewn into the pocket in the center of it. 

The final boy is, quite obviously, the fifth and final Fairchild, a mess of black hair getting played with by the blonde, who pulls away the thick circular glasses, setting them on the table beside their shared armchair. The boy has on a thick, light blue hoodie, the sleeves pulled up to reveal thick bandages. There are bruises that cover his legs and what little the bandages reveal, but he seems so happy and content in his spot between the other two, smiling as he closes his eyes, coaxing himself into their entangled limbs and getting more comfortable. He even has on some black booty shorts that remind Bill of the red ones Eddie stopped wearing to school since he got dress coded for it, albeit the ones he has on have words written in white on them, looking a suspiciously lot like  _ Propaganda _ in all capital letters. 

“You’re going to bend them,” the second boy affectionately fusses, his voice soft and just barely above a whisper. Bill barely even hears the words. Then, he resumes his conversation with the buff boy, not faltering in the least as both of them play in his hair, raking their fingers through the wild locks and smiling at each other, whispering so they don’t disturb the third. 

Flora decides to interrupt the tame little scene, bursting out in a loud, _ “Chee!” _ The boy in the middle, Beverly, and Bill all flinch, Flora sharing an apologetic look around the room, mouthing an  _ I’m sorry _ to the group. “Look! Eddie brought some friends,” she continues with instead of saying her apology out loud to all of them. 

The small boy cracks open an eye, peering at them beneath thick lashes. He runs his eye over the entire group, not doing much for a moment before closing it back, dismissing the group so easily. 

His sister huffs, puffing her cheeks before moving forward. “Come on, Richie!” She gently smacks at the top of his foot, carefully avoiding the bruises everywhere else. Bill only then notices the bandages around his ankles. As it seems, Eddie, too, who winces in what Bill thinks may be sympathy. “Don’t be lazy, come and play with us!” She fusses. 

Richie finally leans up, untangling himself from the mess of limbs and bodies. His arms raise as he stretches, yawning. The only noise that leaves him is a squeak of a thing. With him finally leaning up, Bill can get a full look at him, seeing the bandages that litter his body having gentle hints of red on them, all certainly newly changed. The bruises on him are somewhat faded, even the ones that he finds around the bandages on Richie’s neck. The boy’s shirt raises to reveal even  _ more _ bruises over his stomach, all dark and a few very distinctive, large handprints that couldn’t belong to anyone currently there too clear  _ not _ to be distinguished. Beverly turns her attention towards Miles, who quickly takes up a few soft words with her. 

The boy goes to scratch at the skin on his stomach, but the instant he touches it, he flinches, expression turning somber as the other two immediately lean up, whispering quietly. He frowns and lightly pushes them away. Neither say anything, but the  _ I’m okay _ goes unspoken between them. None of the newcomers acknowledge it as the buff boy twists around to reach for those thick glasses, passing them to the boy as he pulls his sleeves down, concealing those bandages once more. 

The buff boy smirks playfully at the blonde, softly voicing, “See? You shouldn’t have taken them.” The other only snorts and rolls his eyes, so playful with the motion, calm and relaxed as he babies Richie. “I’m Mike Hanlon,” the buff boy tells, “but you can call me Mikey so you don’t confuse me with the other Mike.” 

The blonde smirks and shakes his head affectionately, as if he wants to say something to that, but instead turns to say, “I’m Stanley, but I  _ suppose _ you all can call me Stan, for short.” 

Beverly falls back into the conversation with the others, falling out of whatever she was saying to Miles. “I’m Beverly Marsh,” she supplies, sounding oh so determined as she turns to point at Bill, “This is my boyfriend, Bill Denbrough,” and finally to Ben, “and our mutual boyfriend, Ben Hanscom.” 

Richie seems to brighten at hearing their names, smile back on his features as his head moves back and forth to look at Stan and Mikey, who watch as the boy moves his hands, quick to talk. Ben knows those movements, albeit rough and not that good with his ASL. Georgie was better, taking classes because there were days where he didn’t like talking and Bill was hard of hearing. While Bill was still reluctant to accept that, he did have hearing aids, so he was well off enough as was. He couldn’t catch much outside of  _ B-E-N _ spelled quickly, the last bit flying over his head. However, the two beside him gently laugh. 

“What,” Ben asks with a raised brow, frowning. It was something he was clearly self-conscious about, anxiety always creeping up on him. When they first met, Ben would wear nothing but sweatshirts and anything thick enough to hide his body. It had taken a while, but their little rag-tag group was doing their best to get it past him that not only did they  _ love him, _ but they  _ adored him, _ no matter what he looked like. 

“He called you  _ Benny Handsome,” _ Stanley informs, all matter of factly, smiling softly at Ben, whose cheeks flush bright red at the words. Richie grins at him, all teeth and scrunched up eyes, two thumbs up towards his direction. It’s a comforting little gesture. His hands start moving just after, making it clear that he still has something to say.  _ “Billiam De-Bro, Beverly Marshmellow, Eddie Spaghetti,” _ Stan repeats for him. 

The feeling of the room picks up after that, even as Eddie fusses at him not to call him that. The moment of pain that had crossed Richie had gotten tossed out the window within the moments Richie had pushed out some nicknames. Beverly gently elbows Bill’s side to say, “Alright, Billiam.” It’s cheerful and clear her own moment of fog was cleared up by then. 

_ “Chee,” _ Flora fusses in a yelp, giving his hand a little tug. He smiles and turns towards her, attention focused solely on her now. “Let’s take them to the koi pond!” 

Mike hisses at that, his cringe clear. Miles looks a bit guilty as his younger brother recounts, “That didn’t go too well last time with Kate, did it?”

The girl grimaces at the reminder. Bill kind of wants a backstory to it, but he isn’t in the mood to press his luck and pry as Flora frowns. She hums in thought, eventually turning her attention over to Richie, who is still in the chair with the other two, leaning forward to pay attention to his sister, rather close to her. “I don’t know,” she muses aloud, “what’d you want to do, Chee?”

Richie frowns at the girl, leaning up to think about her words for a moment. He brings a hand up to his face, fingers loosely pressing to his lips, a long black nail scraping against the bottom one before he suddenly seems to brighten. If Bill didn’t know any better, he’d say the whole room visibly brightened at the idea he seems to have gotten, but that wasn’t physically possible. His hands flap around his face for a moment before he stumbles out of the chair. He just barely avoids meeting the floor with his face, Mikey holding tight to the back of his hoodie, carefully avoiding the hood itself and instead taking grip on the back of it where his shoulder blades would be. 

_ “Be careful,” _ Mikey hisses at him, though there’s no malice and it sounds like it’s spurred on purely from worry, which Bill didn’t doubt in the least. 

Richie lets out a soft noise, one of surprise and content as he rights himself with minimal help from Mikey. He waves his hand at the other in a passive motion, maybe dismissal or maybe an apology, Bill couldn’t say, but he was moving forward within an instant, patting Benn and Bill’s shoulders. He moves behind them in swift motions, one hand gripping around Eddie’s own hand and the other offered out to Beverly. Well, to be more accurate, his  _ pinkie _ is gripping Eddie’s own pinkie, just a small little action that silently tells that Richie is  _ comfortable _ with Eddie, which honestly surprises Bill, not that he’ll say it. What maybe surprises him more is that Beverly takes Richie’s hand without any hesitation whatsoever. 

Mike, his brother, smiles at them, raking his eyes over the group before softly telling, “We’ll stay here, okay? You guys can show them around and have fun.” Something goes unspoken, something that makes Richie nod curtly at them, solid with his movements. 

And Mikey seems to steel himself as he nods to the older, “We’ll go with them.” It’s clear that there’s  _ something _ going unspoken. Bill just  _ barely _ catches the guilty expression that crosses over Richie’s face, replaced within an instant with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, so cautious with its existence that it’s obviously fake. It doesn’t help that what Mikey said is centered towards Mike, Boris, and Miles, not even  _ meant _ for the new group and siblings. Stan only nods along to it, smiling softly as Richie starts marching out of the room, Flora following behind him. Mikey, Bill, Ben, and Stan all follow suit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO, I will very much NOT drop the joke titles, they're funny and this fic is going to be getting morbid as fuck and will NOT get lighthearted after that. It's just going to get worse from here on out. This fic is literally just going to get darker and take on the extremes of The Turning and IT. 
> 
> I really liked writing this chapter and I have yet to decide on if I'm actually going to write the other scenes I've been planning on or if I'm just going to jump into the trauma. 
> 
> I'm thinking about doing a lot with Richie and Boris story-wise since they're my favorites, which will soon also add in Eleven a shit ton, too. 
> 
> I'm going to attempt to make this a slow burn on the romance since I've never actually done anything that's a slow burn of any kind. 
> 
> There was something I was going to say but my bitch ass forgot it when I reset my song so, if I remember it, I'll put it in the comments, so watch out for that. Probably just another cautionary? 
> 
> (also, the ships that I haven't tagged yet are going to be Mike Hanlon/Richie/Eddie/Stan, Mike Wheeler/Will, Max/El, Lucas/Dustin [already established], Bev/Ben/Bill [already established], Boris/Theo [established], and have yet to find someone to put Miles with, but I may just end up doing an OC because I can't think of a character to put him with. No, he's not going with Kate, y'all nasties)

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Fairchildren and I'm still stuck on the Unholy Holy Trinity/Trio and just generally Finn Wolfhard so here. 
> 
> Please leave comments! And reviews! I hope y'all like this better than people are actually like The Turning (2020), lol. 
> 
> Here's my Discord server!  
> https://discord.gg/eGkwayy


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